


No Strings Attached

by troubledfaith



Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 15:34:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29137917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/troubledfaith/pseuds/troubledfaith
Summary: No emotional feelings.No strings attached.Good enough for Michael.
Relationships: Michael De Santa/Steve Haines, Michael De Santa/Trevor Philips (past)
Kudos: 10





	No Strings Attached

**Author's Note:**

> Something short and stupid for my favorite rare pair. I have no idea how to tag, please forgive me.

When Michael was a kid, he wanted to be a cop or something cool like a secret agent. In reality, he grew up to be a hideous bank robber. Though, he believed he was still a good guy.

At the age of forty-eight, all Michael wanted was to sink by his swimming pool with a glass of whiskey by his side. _Staring miserably at the clouds_ like his wife once said.

It was all gone now.

If he hadn't pulled the Mexican mafia's house down the hill, maybe he wouldn't have to rob that jewelry store to get the money.

Maybe his once best friend would never find out he was still alive.

Maybe Dave Norton wouldn't start asking favors with him.

Maybe he would never meet Steve fucking Haines.

When Michael first met Dave in North Yankton, he panicked, thinking the feds finally got him this time. What he didn't expect was the agent would be as crooked as much as himself. The deal Dave offered him stuck in his mind for weeks, until one night that he gave up to his insomnia and dialed the agent's numbers.

Not everyone was good as they pretended to. Even the FIB agents.

Nine years later in Los Santos, when Michael met Steve Haines for the first time, he hated everything about him. Every fucking thing. The way he dressed, talked, and that smug look on his face.

But when Steve's hand went for his throat, there was another thought.

"Then why don't you start with me, genius?"

His breath hitched and suddenly, he felt something else. Something hot.

He knew Steve had sensed it when Michael replied breathily, "You got it, pal."

Because when the fucker loosen the grip, his hand rested on Michael's collarbone for a moment, and rage wasn't the only thing flickering in his eyes.

What he learned from Steve Haines was the agent liked the authority and everyone's attention. Short-tempered he might add.

Now, didn't that sound like someone?

Someone who was also craving attention.

Someone who went too crazy to realize that house on the hill was too luxurious for a tennis coach-

"Now run along, kids," Steve's words interrupted his train of thought. Michael smiled before taking off with Dave.

After he broke into the IAA building for a rescue mission, they met again in the warehouse.

Michael gave Dave a glare when Steve took Mr. K out, which the taller man just stared right back with an unreadable expression. He noticed Steve seemed to enjoy the whole process as he preparing the torture instruments.

It'd be a lie if Michael said he still wanted to follow his dream to be on the law side after witnessing all of this bullshit.

What the fuck was wrong with the FIB?

Steve didn't pay much attention to him as he handed the weapon case, expecting him to kill some Azerbaijanis while the agent himself and Trevor were torturing the information out of Mr. K.

"I think it's a good time, buddy. You know? Go for a drive." Trevor waved the pliers at him casually like all of this was so goddamn normal.

He sighed and walked out of the warehouse.

“So how are Steve and Trevor getting along?” Michael asked later on the way to Chumash.

“Seems like a productive relationship,” Dave answered, probably having the same thought.

Both Trevor and Steve got a sick kick from torturing the poor soul. If they were on the same paths, they would have made a craziest psychotic pair in San Andreas.

Jesus, how did his life end up with a bunch of psychopaths around him?

Somehow, that didn't bother him as much as it should. Maybe he was starting to get used to it...

...or maybe he was one of them.

-x-

A few days after Michael handed the package to Devin Weston, he woke up alone on a bed that wasn't his own.

He took a glance around the room, seemed like a hotel room more than someone's residence. As soon as he was about to get out of the bed, his body felt all sore, his ass to be specific. When he reached for his phone to check the message, there was a text from Steve.  
  


_Let's do this again sometime.  
  
_

Then it was all coming back to him.

He remembered Steve texting him for a talk, face to face. Just the two of them this time. Another assassination job or some government bullshit, whatever it was.

The agent was commenting about him smelling like shit. He remembered Steve kissing him, mashing their mouths together, and he kissed back with a force, then they-

God, he shouldn't have drunk too many glasses of whiskey before he left his house.

Michael stared at his phone before pinching the bridge between his nose tiredly.

-x-

Turned out, they just kept doing it.

Falling for the physical attraction was one of his biggest mistakes. He did it with Trevor once when they were both in their youth, on the top of the world with nothing to lose. It was all coming to an end when Amanda came into the picture.

Another mistake.

Stupidly, he thought it could be true love and everything would work out.

What a joke.

He could have stopped all this after his first hook up with Haines. He wasn't into men. Not anyone besides Trevor but no, he had to be greedy whenever he was out of the closet, hungry for more.

Endless lust.

Constantly cheating.

Never enough.

Never changed.

Pathetic Townley.

Michael shook his head mentally before knocking on the apartment door. He assumed it was just a place Steve had for some sleepover, judging from a few pieces of furniture inside. It took a few moments before the owner himself answered him.

"Took you long enough," the agent greeted. His hair was a little messy and his eye bags were noticeable. Not something you would see often from Steve Haines.

"You look like shit, even for your standard," Michael said as he stepped inside.

"I'm the best-looking man you can find in Los Santos, you moron."

"With how you dress? Oh, please."

Steve frowned, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. "You got anything smart to say more or do I need to shut you up?

Michael put his hands up in surrender.

As usual, he got into the bed before Steve climbed up after him, and they shared some kisses.

All tongue and teeth.

All desperate.

When Steve entered him, his eyes were sealed shut. Let his mind fell into a blissfulness.

He still remembered how it was with Trevor. The guy was known for being a ruthless psychopath, but he was strangely careful with Michael in bed when he had him pinned down.

All those sweet things to encourage him being whispered near his ear, trying to make sure Michael always came first.

Those memories still hurt him.

His experience with Steve was nothing gentle nor passionate. Just two grown men rutting and fucking like they were still horny teenagers.

No emotional feelings.

No strings attached.

Good enough for Michael.

"Can you not think of something else when I'm fucking you?" Steve growled.

"Maybe you need to be better," Michael chuckled before gasping. His hands were clutching on the bedsheets.

"If I'm not good, you wouldn't keep coming back for more," Steve smirked. "Pretty obvious how repressed you are, Townley."

"Why do you care?" Michael grunted out, "I'm just someone you- Jesus- you fucked and blackmailed to do dirty work for you."

"You're right, I don't."

Steve grinned, closing his hand on Michael’s windpipe firmly. "But you're fun enough."

Everything went blurry after that and fuck,

It felt too fucking good.

The world around him spun faster and faster, he couldn’t tell how long they were fucking until Steve pulled out, left him panting heavily.

“You got a smoke?” He asked when his breathing became steadier.

Steve who was now fully clothed stared at him in disbelief before rolling his eyes.

“Do I look like a smoker, bandito?”

Michael shrugged, slowly got up to dress, and made his way to the door.

“Catch you later,” Steve said. His voice was light, clearly amused by his own joke.

It was Michael’s turn to rolled his eyes.

-x-

“You’re thinking about him,” Steve huffed.

“Are you a mind reader now?” Michael panted out between his whine.

It was true though. After he had his standoff with Trevor in Luderndoff and being kidnapped by some Chinese, he couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Not without his heart aching.

“One more job and I promise you, Mike,” Steve stared at him with an intense look, he was moving his hip a lot harsher now.

"You wouldn’t have to worry about Philips anymore.”

Before Michael could ask what he meant; he was back to a moaning mess again.

-x-

"Just like old time."  
  
Michael turned to look at Dave who was sipping his coffee. They ran into each other at the coffee shop and decided to sit down together for 'an old-time sake'.  
  
"Yeah, at least I don't have to take care of some poor Eastern guy this time."  
  
“Have you ever thought of him?"

"Who?"

"You know who."

Weeks ago, Michael, Trevor, and Franklin had cut all of their loose ends. Devin Weston, Wei Cheng, Stretch...

...and Steve Haines.

"I still don't know who you mean."

Dave sighed exaggeratedly. "Mike."

Michael snorted. He thought about the last time he saw Steve; they were all pointing their guns at each other.

_“Come on, where’s the trust?"_

_"You can do better than that."  
  
"They know or they think they know that I'm the one that was behind the incident."  
  
"Uh-huh, and now you want me to clean up your mess again? Right? Before I end up at the bottom of the ocean. Fuckin' good luck with that."_

What a disaster.

Steve was nothing more than a one-night stand. The man was willing to do anything to keep his fame.

That was why it didn't hurt him to suggest Steve on the take-out list.

Even it kind of did a little when he saw the agent's name on the news. _Agent Haines, who was not married, lived with his mother._

“Maybe. May he rest in peace," he said dryly. "How's his mom?"

“She's okay, I'm looking after her," Dave answered, he seemed surprised with the question. Michael nodded back.

"After that thing in the Kortz Center, he wanted to kill all of you but I managed to calm him down,” Dave continued.

"He still wanted Trevor dead though, saying he was too unpredictable."

At that, Michael raised his brows.

So, that was what Steve meant, he thought.

And Trevor was the one who shot him.

Oh, the irony...

He just stared at the taller man with a dumbfounded look, not knowing what to do or feel with this information.

Dave glanced at the watch on his wrist and stood up from his seat. "I gotta run now, take care of yourself."

"Wait, wait, wait, why are you telling me this?" Michael asked curiously.

"I thought I should tell you; you seem to care enough to know," the older man smiled faintly at him briefly before he got into his car.

"I know everything."


End file.
